Monsters and Skeletons
by Scrunchy
Summary: All children are afraid of the monsters in their closets; the creeping darkness that threatens their imaginations. All Spies are afraid of emotional ties; the weaknesses upon which the skeletons in their closets prey. A child will grow up and lose their fear, but a Spy is already a man.
1. Chapter 1

And now for something a little different.

* * *

The fear was paralyzing.

His heart raced, and he had to gasp for breath.

He couldn't move, but he had to. If he just sat there, dead limbed and wide eyed, the monster would get him.

The boy crept from his bed, his eyes riveted on the dark crack in his closet door. That sliver of darkness was more dangerous than the boy two doors down and his knuckle sandwiches. It was more frightening than the loudest claps of thunder, and made him feel sick to his stomach.

His little feet zipped him to the door, eyes still locked on the space between the closet's door and jamb.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he turned and ran.

His mother's room was several doors down, but it felt like he only took a few steps to reach it. He felt the fear building again, past the rush that leaving his room had brought. A glance back at his room, and he felt the desperation flood him as he grasped the doorknob. The darkness had taken over his room—he couldn't see any light from his window, just darkness.

The door was locked.

"No…" he whimpered, rattling the knob. It was softly at first, but with increasing fervor as he felt the darkness drawing closer. It had left his closet and swallowed his room—soon it would leave his room and he would be swallowed up next. "Mom…!" He whined, tears beginning to drip down his cheeks. Soon his little fists were hitting the door, and it wasn't long until he heard a sigh on the other side and the door unlocking.

"_Qu'est-ce qu'il y a, petit_?" It was a man's voice when the door opened, and a man's leg that he found himself clinging to. "Shh, shh, shhh… it is okay..." he hissed softly, and a hand came down to rest on the boy's hair. It wasn't until the boy had calmed down to the occasional hiccupping sniffle that he spoke again. This time, his voice was less lethargic with sleep, and his strange accent less noticeable. "Now, what is wrong, boy?"

"There's a monster in my room…" he said softly, tucking his face against the man's hip. His mother had always warned him against strangers, but he didn't think that included the strangers she brought home.

"A monster?" the man's voice sounded concerned rather than humored like the rest. The boy looked up at the man and swallowed a scared whine as he nodded. "Hmm…" the man reached down and lifted him to rest on his hip.

The boy's arms circled his neck, and he rested his head on the man's shoulder.

"Let's go investigate, shall we?" The man patted his back gently and began carrying him back toward his room.

"Do we have to?" The boy whimpered; his arms tightened around the man's neck and he shifted his face to blot out all chance of seeing the monster. He just wanted to go sleep beside his mother for the rest of the night, that was where it was safe.

The man halted and he pulled the boy's head gently away from his chest. Cool fingers directed his head up, and he saw the man's face clearly for the first time.

He was handsome, more handsome than the few of the other men he'd seen his mother with. He reminded the boy of a movie star.

He was kinder, too. It was in his eyes—the way he looked at the boy made him feel safe, like he could trust this man he'd never met before that night. His nose was strange, though, it looked like a bird's beak. The thought made him smile a little.

"There we are." The man smiled back at him and the boy felt his mounting fear begin to recede again. The man started moving once again, and the boy silently allowed himself to be carried back to his room.

"No, what if—"

The man shushed him again with a finger on his lips. "Monsters are afraid of me." His smile turned into something different, more of a smirk than a look of reassurance.

"Really?" The boy asked.

"Yes, really." The man chuckled and patted his back again. "Do you trust me, _petit_?"

The boy seemed to think about it for a moment, but it wasn't long until he was nodding—completely sure of his decision.

"Well, then, let's go give that monster a fright."

This time, the boy didn't hide against the man's chest. This time, they faced the door together.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't his plan to stay; that wasn't the way he worked. That wasn't the way spies worked. He'd planned to comfort the boy, tuck him back into bed and either redress himself and leave the house, or climb back into the boy's mother's arms. Even he didn't know which he would rather have done—she was… well, she was different.

She made him want to stick around.

That made her dangerous.

Her youngest son was no different.

Once he'd opened the door and turned on the light, displaying a prominent lack of monsters, the boy began wiggling to get down. Full of new confidence provided by having an adult with him, he flew to the bed and looked beneath it. Satisfied, he withdrew and—well, what he was doing was more graceful than running; it looked as if his natural mode of motion was a series of fluid strides that seemed too long for his little legs—_moved_ to check the closet as well.

The man watched him pause with his hand on the knob, and his other little hand clenched and unclenched into a fist several times. A moment of silent expectation passed before the spy slipped closer, careful to make a little noise so that he didn't frighten the boy further.

"We shall open it together." He said, resting his hand over the boy's trembling fingers.

The boy nodded, and the spy put gentle pressure on his fingers to pull the door back and reveal the toy-strewn floor within.

"I knew there wasn't anything there." The boy suddenly piped, turning around and putting his little fists on his hips. "I _knew_."

The spy nodded. "You knew, but you still felt the fear."

The agreement seemed to throw the boy for a loop, and he was quiet for a second more before he nodded. "Yeah. Does that happen to you too?"

The spy chuckled and shook his head. It was only when the boy's face fell that he sighed and scooped him up again. "Not anymore." He admitted, holding the boy beneath one arm and tickling him with the other hand. "And someday, nothing will scare you too." He promised as he plopped the boy down on his bed.

"Nothing scares me now—'cause the monster wasn't there." The boy pointed out.

"Fine, nothing will not scare you." He amended, looming over the insolent child and threatening to tickle the boy again. He was met with giggling protests before the boy grabbed his hand, preventing him from leaving.

"Will you read me a story? Before you go back to my Ma's room?"

The spy cleared his throat indignantly and motioned for the boy to scoot over on the bed. "You are quite a brat when you are not afraid for your life."

The boy grinned at him and reached over his lap to pull a rather large collection of fairytales from his bedside table. "My favorite is the Thumbling story."

"If my memory is right, there are two." The spy told him, giving him a small smirk.

A pout and a shrug later, he opened the index and found both stories.

The boy was asleep by the end of the first, and the spy intended to rest his eyes for only a moment—he just wanted to take in the feeling of what it would be like if he'd pursued a family instead of the covert life of a spy.

The boy's mother woke him up with a gentle hand just after dawn, and a quiet smile and a raised brow asked questions that he didn't himself know the answers to.

:::::

He'd gone back several times.

Often enough to feel emotions; often enough to know that it was a bad idea.

Perhaps not as often as he should have.

Scouts never joined TF Industries under favorable circumstances. It was usually the only option left to them aside from debt or prison. Unfortunately, it was usually the latter that landed them on TF Industries's for-hire list.

He hadn't seen the boy in several years, but there was no mistaking those ears, that nose, and those charmingly obnoxious teeth bared in a fierce grin.

He hadn't watched his cloak, hadn't realized that the boy had seen him until their eyes connected. The boy was almost to him, bat raised, when he saw the slightest hesitance in his stride.

He used it, sidestepped to avoid the blow, and brought his knife up and into the boy's back. He usually stopped to admire his kill, to make sure that the stroke was the deathblow, but this time, the Spy turned on his heel and hurried away from the scene.

He was bent on avoiding the Scout for the remainder of the battle, and, if possible, the remainder of his term at their current base.


End file.
